You were the rain.
I’m so, so sorry you were the rain.
Drops on your cheeks wet the pages
of your favorite books,
and my arms.
You weren’t supposed to be someone
I would love.
But you smelled like cigarettes
and you tasted like ash, you…
you tasted…
hopeless.
I had hoped the rain would clean you,
but instead it would absorb you.
until finally I could see that when
it rained
you did, too.
So I tried to take it back, to show you
that rain could be destructive
when it was beautiful.
But by then you had learnt to love
the beauty in the destruction that you
left in your wake.